If you have visited my other blog, On Life, Love and Accidental Adventures, you know that I believe in serendipity and delight in the unexpected pleasures of travel.
Several years ago, I was in New Orleans attending a writers conference when I had an unexpected encounter with Marie Antoinette.
No, we did not collide into each other while jostling for a seat in the ever-crowded Cafe du Monde (Though had we met there, I like to believe we would have become fast friends while sharing a table and plate of beignets).
We met at the New Orleans Museum of Art.
In desperate need of a respite from the exhuastive, endless swirl of conference activities, I hopped in a cab and headed to the museum.
I was climbing up the wide, marble stairs that lead to the French Gallery when I saw her...
...or rather, a portrait of her.
The portrait hung in the entrance to the French Gallery, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling. For a moment, the size of the canvas, life-like features of the subject, and subtle museum lighting fooled me into thinking I had somehow stepped through a portal in time and into the artist's atelier. I could almost smell the oily paints, hear the scratching of brush against canvas.
Vigafter receiving a commission from the King's younger brother, the Comte d'Artois.
The New Orleans Museum of Art purchased Elizabeth-Louise Vig
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